When he came down into the drawing-room, Lady Grace was seated at the piano, playing softly, and she glanced up at him with a smile.
“What have you been doing with yourself all day, Lord Neville?” she asked.
“Oh, I’ve just been loafing about,” he said, carelessly; “and you?”
“I am ashamed to say that I haven’t been outside the grounds,” she replied. “Mr. Churchill and I have been botanizing in the gardens. I told him that we really ought to do something in the way of exploring the neighborhood, but I could not induce him to go outside the gates. Are you going to the theatre to-night?” she asked, innocently.
He started and bent over the music.
“Not to-night,” he said.
“I didn’t know,” she said. “I myself should like to go and see that girl play Juliet again; it was wonderful.”
“Yes,” he said in his curt way.
“Yes, she played it so remarkably well. But I’m afraid a second night would spoil the impression, wouldn’t it?”
“I daresay,” he said.